


Coping

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aphasia, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Bullying, Child Abuse, CryoFitz, Dogs, F/M, First Meetings, Fitz gets a dog, Hallucinations, Headaches & Migraines, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Leo Fitz-centric, Meditation, Missing Scene, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post season finale, Post-Episode: s01e22 Beginning of the End, Recovery, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Temporary Muteness, Verbal Abuse, season 5, shutdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: 5 times Fitz hugs a pillow to soothe himself and 1 time he doesn't need a pillow. (Chapters can be read as standalones)Chapter 1: Leo has only one friend. His stuffed monkey Archimedes. The day he loses Archimedes is the day his father leaves. (Child!Fitz)Chapter 2: Fitz admires Simmons from afar. He's sure she wouldn't even talk to him if he was the last person on the planet. But he's in for a surprise (First Meeting)Chapter 3: After the accident, the team treats him as if he's some kind of fragile doll that could break apart any minute.Except May. May treats him pretty much like before the incident. (Season 2)Chapter 4: In the end it's not Jemma who visits Fitz. In the end, it's The Doctor. (Fitz in solitary confinement, Season 5)Chapter 5: Fitz locks himself up and he doesn't want - doesn't expect - help. But May doesn't let herself be scared away. (Season 5, Post e14)Chapter 6: Fitz wakes up and doesn't understand. They tell him about things he can't remember. It's all too much. So he shuts down. (Post Season 5 Finale, CryoFitz)I added trigger warnings for every chapter.





	1. The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by this post on tumblr: [Fitz and his pillow - the saga ](https://weareagentsofnothing.tumblr.com/post/172515254721/fitz-and-his-pillow-the-saga-its-my)  
> Thanks @weareagentsofnothing for letting me write a story to it! <3
> 
> Please note, that I'm not a native speaker! I would be very grateful if someone would beta read this.  
> Yeah, what can I say, dads who drink suck.  
> This fic - especially this chapter - is quite personal, so please be kind if you leave a comment, thanks :3  
> Also: Fitz is only called "Leo" in the first chapter, don't worry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo has only one friend. His stuffed monkey Archimedes. The day he loses Archimedes is the day his father leaves. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for alcohol abuse, verbal abuse and ableism.

Leo slips restlessly back and forth on the uncomfortable wooden chair. He bites his lip and glances once more at the clock on the wall opposite.  
  
His father has been in the director's office for a long time now. A really long time.  
  
Leo wonders if it's because of the clock in the classroom.  
It was an accident. He didn't mean to break it.  
He just wanted to switch it off ...  
The ticking was too loud.  
It hurt his ears.  
He tried to explain it. But nobody wanted to listen to him.  
His teacher had just scolded him while his classmates giggled and whispered.  
  
Leo swallows.  
It's almost certainly because of the clock.  
Maybe he will have to pay for it.  
  
When Alistair Fitz finally comes out of the room, his face is red and his mouth a thin, grim line.  
  
Leo looks up at him and involuntarily hunches his shoulders. He quietly mumbles, "I'm sorry, Daddy ..."  
  
"Come on," Alistair says curtly.   
He walks to the exit with big, firm steps and doesn't wait for Leo, who hurries after him.  
  
*  
  
His father doesn't say a word on the drive home.  
He just drums a quick, angry rhythm on the steering wheel whenever they stop because of a traffic light.  
The noise makes Fitz nervous and anxious.  
But he doesn't dare to ask his father to stop.  
  
He shouldn't make this worse than it already is.  
  
*   
  
In the evening, his father comes into the room, his breath heavy and sweet.  
He has a bottle in his hand.  
He stops in front of the bed and looks down at Leo, who is sitting on the mattress, leaning against the wall, clutching his stuffed monkey Archimedes to his chest.  
  
For a while, they just look at each other.  
Leo's eyes are wide open.  
Alistair's are red and slightly glassy.  
  
All that can be heard at this moment is Alistair's heavy breathing.  
  
Leo wishes himself far away.  
The sweet-bitter smell his father brought into the room threatens to overwhelm him.  
He feels as if he has to vomit right away.  
  
A tear runs down his cheek.  
He swallows and wipes it away quickly.  
His father doesn't like tears.  
_Only the weak ones cry_ , he always says. _Are you weak, Leopold? Are you a weakling?_  
  
Finally, Alistair bends down until he can look Leo directly in the eye.  
His stare is intense. It almost seems as if he's looking for something. Apparently he doesn't find it, because suddenly he sighs heavily and shakes his head. He rubs his neck with his free hand and snorts. He takes a quick sip from the nearly empty bottle.  
"It's pointless," he finally says harshly. "What am I even doing here."  
  
Leo doesn't understand.  
He runs his fingers through Archimede's soft fur. It's a soothing feeling.  
  
He wonders if his father is considering finding another son.  
One who doesn't constantly disappoint him.  
One who doesn't make him sad or angry.  
It would make sense.  
It's logical, isn't it?  
  
Alistair stares at Leo for a moment longer, then he stands up with a grunt. Before he leaves the room, he rips the stuff monkey from Leo's hands.  
"You don't need that," he says dully. "Plush toys ... babies have plush toys. You're not a baby, damn it."  
He turns around and leaves.  
The door closes behind him. Loudly.  
  
Leo flinches.  
The tears are coming now without him being able to hold them back.  
Archimedes has been a gift from his mother.  
He is Leo's friend.  
The only friend he has.  
Archimedes listens to him when he can't stop talking about monkeys. He doesn't laugh at him when he flaps his hands in excitement. Archimedes is there for him when he needs comfort. His fur is perfectly soft - just as soft as Leo needs it to be.  
  
And now he's gone.  
  
Leo wants him back.  
But his father will only get more angry.  
Leo doesn’t want to make him any more angry.  
He would like to see him smile. Like he did in the past.  
Would like to make him proud.  
For this he will try not to be a baby.  
Will try to be strong.  
A good son.  
A son to be proud of ...  
  
At some point he hears his mother outside the door. She must have come home from work. She sounds tired.  
"Alistair? Have you been drinking again - what are you doing with Leo's monkey?"  
  
"I'm throwing this thing away. He is not a baby. Stop treating him like one."  
  
"Alistair ... he's hanging on this stuffed animal. You know that …"   
  
"You see, that's exactly what I mean. How is he ever going to properly grow up if you handle him with kid gloves, eh?"  
The voice of his father is getting louder. Leo can understand every word. And every single word hurts.  
He whimpers and starts scratching his arms nervously. He wants Archimedes back ...  
  
"He's still a kid ... and you know that he ... that he doesn't have it easy," his mother says outside.  
  
"Not easy? A harder hand would help. Today I was at his school. Again. Do you know what that idiot said about your oh so great son? That he would probably be better off at a special school."  
  
Leo frowns. Special school. That doesn't sound good.  
He begins to nibble on the nails of his left hand.  
His stomach aches.  
His legs started shaking and he feels cold and hot at the same time. Archimedes would help him if he were there.  
He looks around and his gaze falls on his pillow. He reaches for it and clutches it to his chest. He presses his face into the soft fabric and starts to rock slightly back and forth.  
  
"Do you think I enjoy being here? Do you think I enjoy hearing from these people at school that my son is a freak?"  
  
"He is not a freak! He is unbelievable smart and ... "  
  
"He is _not_ smart. He's retarded or something. And you know what? That's all your fault! You allow him to be whiny and you even support his strange, ridiculous quirks! Do you think it's normal for a 10-year-old to constantly flap his hands or puke because he smells fried fish or - "  
  
"Alistair! Stop it!"  
  
"But it's alright, you know? It's okay, because I won’t do this anymore. I've had enough of you and that disappointment up there. Enough!"  
  
Suddenly the front door slams shut and it's completely silent.  
  
Leo presses his face harder into the pillow and closes his eyes. The pillow is not Archimedes, but the feel of the fabric on his skin, the feeling of something real in his arms, calms him down a bit.  
  
At some point, the door opens quietly. His mother comes in.  
"Leo," she says, sinking down next to him on the mattress. She doesn't try to touch him. She knows better. She just sits next to him and breathes slowly, quietly and steadily. She waits.  
  
A few minutes go by.  


Finally, when Leo feels ready, he stops rocking back and forth and looks at his mother from the side. "I'm sorry …"  
  
His mother blinks at him. Her eyes are red.  
"There's nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. He's ... it's the alcohol, you know. We talked about it, remember? Daddy has a problem."   
  
"It's my fault he's so angry," Leo mumbles into the pillow and closes his eyes. "I'm useless and a disappointment."  
  
His mother inhales sharply.  
  
Leo wonders if he made her sad too now.  
Maybe that's his secret talent.  
Maybe he will make everyone sad.  
That would mean that he has to stay away from people.  
That would not be so bad.  
People obviously don't want to have him near them anyway.  
Maybe he can live with the monkeys instead.  
That sounds like a good idea. But it probably isn't one. Monkeys live in nature and people live in houses ...  
  
"He doesn't really mean what he says," his mother finally says. She doesn't sound convinced. And the next moment she sighs and adds, "No. You know, he has no idea. You're smart. You are so smart, Leo. If he would take time to ... if he would try to understand ... I'm sorry, sweetheart."  
  
Leo doesn't understand why she's apologizing.  
She didn't do anything wrong. Not like him.  
But he nods and looks at her.  
"Archimedes. Daddy took Archimedes. Can I get him back?" He asks hopefully.  
  
His mother swallows. "When your Daddy comes back, he'll give him back to you, alright?" She says with a half-hearted smile.  
  
Leo just nods and presses the pillow closer to him.  
"Okay," he says softly. "Okay, Mum."  
  
But his father never comes back.  
  
He left.  
And he took Archimedes with him.


	2. The Second Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz admires Simmons from afar. He's sure she wouldn't even talk to him if he was the last person on the planet. But he's in for a surprise (First Meeting)
> 
> Trigger warning for bullying.

Fitz is seventeen and in love.

It's not the kind of love he knows from his books.  
It's not like feeling butterflies in the stomach or not being able to stop daydreaming about the love of your life.  
No.  
It's painful and desperate.  
It's hopeless.

Because Jemma Simmons is perfect.

She's standing in front of him in the hallway, talking to two other girls. Her hair falls smoothly over her shoulders and shines in the sunlight that falls through the windows on this summer's day. Her posture is straight and her chin is raised slightly. Everything about her looks strong and self-confident.

Fitz watches her furtively, clutching a book to his chest. He knows that she would never even speak to him, even if he was the last person on this planet.

"Out of my way, freak," suddenly a loud voice behind him calls and the next moment Fitz gets an elbow in the side. He stumbles over his own feet, dropping his book in fright.  
When he tries to pick it up, someone kicks it against the wall with full force.  
"Oops."

Fitz closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. When he straightens, he's not surprised to look into the grinning face of George Hollens.  
Hollens is known throughout the whole school. Harassment. Drugs. Alcohol. One of those pupils who have fallen by the wayside and are now searching for an outlet for their frustration.

Fitz is an easy target.  
He has always been one for the school's bullies.  
He got used to it.  
  
But right now he doesn't want any attention.  
Right now he doesn't want to be humiliated by Hollens.  
Not in front of Simmons of all people.

Hollens crosses his arms and watches as Fitz picks up the book. But before he can put it into his bag - the pages are kinked and there's a crack in the back - Hollens slaps it out of his hands and puts a foot on it. He grins at Fitz provocatively.  
  
Fitz sighs and stares into Hollens eyes, which are gleaming in satisfied spitefulness.  
"What's going on, _Leopold_? Is there anything you want from me?" The older boy asks mockingly.

The hated name makes Fitz shudder.  
Hardly anyone calls him Leopold here. He only listens to Fitz by now.  
The name Leopold is associated with memories that he would like to pack in a bag and sink in the ocean.  
Memories of sleepless nights, listening to his parents' voices. His father's loud, his mother's quiet. Memories of how he had pressed his face into his pillow. The pillow soaked with tears.  
The name belongs into his nightmares, together with those memories.  
And whenever he hears it, he also hears his father's voice.

_I am disappointed in you, Leopold. Very disappointed. When will you finally behave like a real man? Men don't cry, Leopold. They fight back._

Fitz shakes his head as if he could get rid of the memories like that.

He looks at Hollens, who still has this stupid grin on his stubby-bearded face. Fitz knows that he won't give the book back.  
He looks around and realizes that the girls are now looking over to them.  
Simmons has a frown on her face.

Fitz feels his face burning.  
He knows his ears are starting to turn red.  
This is by far the worst day of the week.

He struggles with himself.  
The book is not his own.  
It's from the library.  
He can't just leave it to Hollens.  
Fitz takes a deep breath and reaches out his hand.  
"Give me the book back," he says, hoping he doesn't sound as anxious as he feels right now.

Hollens looks at him in obvious amusement.  
"Of course. Come and get it."  
He takes his shoe off the book.

Fitz hesitates, but then reaches for the book quickly, only to be pushed back violently by Hollens. Hollens laughs sardonically.

The next moment, a sharp, female voice says, "Give him the book back."

Fitz looks up in surprise.  
Jemma Simmons suddenly stands next to Hollens. Her arms are crossed and her eyes are burning. Her mouth is a thin, grim line.

Hollens looks at her. The grin slowly disappears from his face.  
"Really, Simmons? You help this smart ass?"  
He shakes his head. Then he looks Simmons up and down and grins suggestively.  
"But hey, if you go out with me, I'll give him the stupid book back, how about that?"

"I wouldn't even go out with you if you were the only other human being on this planet," Jemma says slowly and wipes a strand of hair from her face. "But I have another idea. I think your friends would love to hear the story about how your last so-called girlfriend emptied a bottle of beer all over you, when she heard you had cheated on her. I bet you haven't told them about that yet, have you?"

Hollens stares at her and his complacency turns into slight concern about the possible humiliation. Finally, he snorts and takes his shoe off Fitz's book.  
"You're welcome. You can go out with that freak here instead. You losers fit together," he growls and leaves.

Simmons looks after him for a moment, a look of open disgust on her face. Finally she bends down and carefully picks up the book. She looks at it with a shake of her head and strokes over the damaged back of the book. Finally she looks at Fitz and hands him the book. "Here. I hope you don't have to pay for it. It's a shame that someone would treat a book like this. But Hollens probably has never looked into a book. At least not voluntarily."

Fitz swallows and takes the book. "Thank you …"

Simmons smiles at him once more. Their eyes meet and for a moment Fitz feels like there's some kind of connection between them. Invisible but at the same time tangible. It's volatile and the next moment he's not sure what he felt.

Simmons turns around, mumbling something about an afternoon class, and leaves.  
Fitz looks after her and his heart beats fast and strong in his chest.

He's lost.

*

The next day, when he's sitting alone at his usual table in the cafeteria, with a book in front of him, poking around in his vegetables, lost in thought, someone suddenly sits down next to him.

"Still free here?"

Fitz startles and looks up from his book right into Simmons' beaming face.   
He swallows.  
"I ... um ... yeah. I mean, yes, it's free."  
_Idiot ... now she certainly thinks you're a complete idiot ..._

"Great," Simmons says, beginning to spoon her mashed potatoes with obvious appetite.

Fitz glances at her with his mouth slightly open, then he looks from his book to his plate back to her.  
_Why is she here?_ _  
_Why isn't she with some friends instead?__  
_I bet she has a dozen friends ..._  
  
Simmons doesn't seem to sense his silent discomfort.  
She also doesn't seem to notice that he starts to fumble with his hands because he can't keep them still.  
She just eats for a few minutes, and Fitz watches frowning, as she shoves her peas to the edge of the plate one by one. Out of reach of the mashed potatoes.  
Finally she looks at him and smiles. "Aren't you hungry?" she asks and points at his plate.

"Um, no. Not really," he says, looking aside.  
There is silence between them for a moment. But it's not really uncomfortable.

"What are you reading?" Simmons asks at some point. She sounds genuinely interested.

"Oh." Fitz clears his throat and closes the book. He shows her the title. "It's about Robotic Engineering."

"Do you want to become an engineer?" she asks and begins to eat her peas one by one without haste.

"Yeah."

"Cool."

She smiles. He smiles back.  
There it is again. The connection.

"You know, we could always meet for dinner here on Tuesdays," Simmons finally says casually.

Fitz swallows. He feels his face getting warmer. "Um ... yes. Why not." Did he really just say that?!

"Great." She gets up and takes her tray. "I have to go now. See you!"

Then she disappears as suddenly as she had come. And Fitz is not sure what to think.

*

A few days later, Simmons knocks at his door. She's crying.

Fitz lets her in and she immediately sits down on his unmade bed. Her eyes are red and tears are running from her face down to her chin. They drip on her hands, which she has crossed in her lap.  
She watches him for a while as he almost desperately tries to bring some order to his room. As he begins to make his empty pizza boxes into a reasonably decent but shaky tower, she laughs stifled and says, "It's okay. I ... I'm not thinking about the condition of your room right now. Not really."  
And the next moment she starts to sob.

Fitz nervously scratches the back of his head.  
He doesn't know what to say.  
He is overwhelmed.  
He knows he has to comfort her somehow but all the words seemed to have disappeared from his head.  
Why is she here. Why did she come to him of all people?  
He's not the right person for this.  
He's ... he's useless in social situations.  
He bites his lip and takes a deep breath.  
"What happened?" He finally asks cautiously.

Simmons pulls a wet handkerchief out of her jacket pocket and blows her nose noisily.  
"Oh. Oh it's just ... I really thought I did it this time," she says, shaking her head. "I thought I had assimilated appropriately this time. But no. No, again I'm not invited. Who wants to have the meticulous, annoying, too smart Jemma Simmons at a party, anyway? Nobody, obviously." She snorts.  
"I'm a failure," she finally says dully.

Fitz looks at her speechless.  
Suddenly he realizes the reason Simmons approached him at lunch.   
She is not as unlike him as he thought.  
Quite the contrary.

Finally, he reluctantly sinks down beside her on the bed and hands her a fresh handkerchief.  
She takes it and when she wipes the tears from his face he says quietly: "You are not a failure. Not for me. You are …"  
He hesitates.  
Simmons looks at him expectantly, her wet eyes wide open and shiny.  
She is beautiful.  
  
Fitz feels the nervousness getting worse. He can't keep his hands still and scratches his arms nervously.  
Eventually, almost without realizing it, he grabs his pillow and presses it against his chest.  
Better. Much better.  
He buries his fingers in the soft fabric and draws in a deep breath.  
"You are incredibly smart. And ... and I actually thought you had a lot of friends," he says softly. "I thought you'd never would to talk to me. These people who have disappointed you today don't deserve your friendship. They don't understand. They will never understand. "  
He falls silent.  
When he looks at her, he knows that she has understood what he means.

She nods slightly and says softly, "Thank you."  
Suddenly she smiles and reaches out a hand to him.  
"We never really introduced ourselves. Jemma Simmons."

He takes her hand. It's warm and the contact is like an electric shock that doesn't hurt.  
"Fitz. Just Fitz," he says and presses the pillow even more against his chest with his free arm.

"Thanks, Fitz. For your words. You really helped me," Simmons says, standing up. She smiles at him again and then says softly, almost hopefully, "Friends?"

Fitz smiles back and says, "Sure. Why not."

She nods. "Goodnight, Fitz", she says softly and leaves.

Fitz stays on the bed and buries his face in the soft pillow in his arms.  
As the nervousness slowly leaves him and his thoughts calm down, he pushes back the painful feelings of beginning love in him until it's only a distant throb.  
He has a friend now.  
That's a marvel.  
There's no need to demand more from the universe.


	3. The Third Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the accident, the team treats him as if he's some kind of fragile doll that could break apart any minute.  
> Except May. May treats him pretty much like before the incident. (Season 2)
> 
> I have no trigger warnings for this chapter. (If you want me to add one, tell me!)

In the beginning is the darkness.  
He expected it.  
He welcomes it.  
He's falling and it's alright.  
He only takes one word with him into this bottomless darkness that swallows him. 

_Jemma._

*

When he wakes up, she's there.  
Her eyes are wide open and her hands on his face are warm.  
He blinks confusedly into the bright light above him.  
His mind is empty.  
He doesn't know anything.  
When he opens his mouth to ask, no words come.  
A tear falls from her face.

"Fitz," she whispers.

*

He feels as if he's floating.  
His head is ... it doesn't feel right. Nothing feels right.  
She's always with him.  
She's holding his hand.  
She's crying. She's always crying.

  
And he wonders why.

Distantly he perceives people who come into the room every now and then.  
Someone asks him questions. He doesn't understand them.  
He hears mumbled words that are alien to him.  
They talk to ... to Jemma. It's Jemma. Simmons. Jemma Simmons. Her name is branded on his soul.  
Jemma listens to them and nods, her face blank.  
Her grip on his hand gets stronger.

*

At some point, the words start to come back to him.  
But they are reluctant.  
They slip from him.  
It's hard to talk. So hard.  
He finally manages to say Jemma's name and she bursts into tears.  
Someone comes and tells him words that he's supposed to repeat.  
It's torture.  
With every stuttered word it gets worse, until he lies in bed, panting.  
"It's okay, Fitz," Jemma says, touching his shoulder timidly. "Everything will be alright …"  
She doesn't sound convinced.

*

The days are filled with the fight for words and Jemma's tears.  
It's not just the words that don't want to obey him.  
His hands, too, seem to be fighting him.  
They tremble and cramp.  
When he's supposed to drink from a glass, he drops it.  
It shatters on the ground.  
Jemma stares at the shards and swallows.

*

He doesn't know how many days he's already lying in this bed.  
Simmons is gone.  
From one day to another.  
  
He knows there was something ... She said something.  
But he doesn't remember what it was.  
God, why can't he remember?  
He only knows she's gone.  
He only knows it hurts.  
  
He seeks explanations in his thoughts. Searches for answers. But what he finds are loose puzzle pieces that make no sense together.

*

 _The bottom of the ocean is silent and cold._ _  
_The water is dark._  
_Shadows dance over Jemma's face, which is full of sparkling tears.__  
  
Shreds of pictures start to fill the gaps in his fragile frame of memories.  
They are terrifying.  
Those pictures ... does he really want them back?  
He's not sure anymore.  
Because with the pictures comes a dull certainty.  
Simmons won't come back.  
At the moment of the end, he dared to turn his innermost outward.  
And she didn't want to see this innermost.  
The more he thinks about it, in the silence of his sickroom, the more sense it makes.

Her absence is her answer.

*

The team treats him as if he's some kind of fragile doll that could break apart any minute.  
  
Except May.  
May treats him pretty much like before the incident.

She eventually comes into his room and says curtly, "We have to get you back on your feet."  
Then she shows him exercises to strengthen the muscles in his legs.  
She is objective and merciless.  
It's a welcome distraction.

*

Jemma is back.  
Just for him.

She's standing beside his bed, during speech therapy, and smiles at him.  
Deep inside he knows that he should be worried about her appearance.  
But he doesn't.

Instead, he smiles back at her.

*

 _It's easy_ , he tells himself.  
_It's only a few steps forward._ _  
_It's just walking._  
_It's easy.__

It's not easy.

At the first step his legs give way underneath him.  
Before he can land on the ground, May and his physiotherapist catch him.  
They let him sink back onto the bed.  
Fitz drops his head.  
Hides the blush on his face and the tears in his eyes.  
Pathetic ... He's pathetic. Weak. Worthless.

"That was good," the physiotherapist says, beaming.  
But when May stares at her with raised eyebrows, the smile fades on her face. "Maybe ... it's too early," she says carefully.

May sighs and shake her head.  
"Out," she says curtly.

The therapist turns around without another word. Her retreat looks more like a hasty escape and Fitz would have smiled if he wasn't too busy with repressing the tears.

May turns to him and looks at him seriously.  
"We'll do more exercises from now on," she says.

Fitz clenches a hand into a fist. He shakes his head.  
"It's ... ugh ... use ... useless," he mumbles. "Everything is…"

May raises an eyebrow.  
"What are you trying to tell me, Fitz?"

He looks at her grimly.  
"I'm not even supposed to be here. I did not ask for ... this ... this ... Whatever. I was ... was ... ready to die."

There is silence for a moment.  
Then May crouches down with a sigh. She looks him straight in the eye. Her gaze is so intense that he has to avoid it.  
"But you are _not_ dead. You are here. You were in a coma for nine days. When you woke up, you couldn't say a word. You could barely move and you didn't remember anything. And now we are here. You have made tremendous progress in a very short amount of time. Life - this life, _our_ life - is struggle. It's not always fair and it's not a bit merciful."  
  
She clears her throat.  
"I'll only tell you this once, so listen carefully. Always winning doesn't make you strong. Triumphing over people doesn't make you strong. Killing a lot of people doesn't make you strong. The thing that make us strong are the defeats we survive and the battles we fight to be able to stand up again. You don't know what the future holds. Sure. It could be awful. But it could also bring you more than you ever thought possible."  
  
She stops and looks at him attentively.  
Her gaze gets a little softer.  
"I'm sorry that Simmons is gone. But I'm sure she thinks of you every day. Don't think that she gave up on you. Give her some time. Give yourself time. But don't stop believing in yourself and in her. You are both fighters. Never forget that."

She doesn't say more.  
She gets up and leaves.

Fitz looks after her. The thoughts are racing in his head.  
What she said has hit a nerve in him.  
He can feel it.

He swallows and finally lies down on his back.  
He closes his eyes.  
This time he willingly awaits sleep.  


There's a battle he has to fight.

*

He slowly gets better.  
After a few days, he manages to stagger to the door without Mays help.  
She nods to him, with appreciation in her eyes.

And Fitz feels a hint of pride.

But when it gets night, when he's alone, the thoughts come. The memories.  
And Jemma starts talking to him.  
Only to him.

He doesn't tell anyone about it.

*

Fitz groans and presses both hands against his head.  
The pain is a blindingly white, raging fire.  
He turns on his side and regrets it the next moment when his head seems to explode.  
He hears himself whimper and presses a fist against his mouth, to stiffle the noises.

"Fitz ...," Simmons says calmly. She's standing beside his bed, a worried expression on her face. She raises a hand and points to the pillboxes that stand on his bedside table. All labeled in May's neat handwriting.

Ah yes.  
What was …  
The drug against that thing ... that thing that's going on with his head every now and then. Drugs for the ... the ...

"Migraine, Fitz," Simmons says softly.

Migraine.  
Yes. That's the word.  
He looks at her sullenly from the side.  
"Almost ...," he mumbles and grimaces, as another wave of pain shakes him. "I almost found it myself ..."

"I know, Fitz. I know. Take the pills."

Fitz reaches for the right pillbox. He pours two pills in his hand, which shakes so hard that he almost drops them. Hastily he throws them into his mouth and reaches for the water bottle on his bedside table. It's plastic, of course. Plastic can't shatter on the ground.

He drinks greedily.  
Finally he lets himself sink back against the wall, breathing heavily.  
The pain is still unbearable.

He presses both hands against his temples.  
_Soon ... It'll be over soon_ , he tells himself.

Simmons looks down at him.  
She's there longer than usual.  
Maybe he is losing the rest of his mind.

"Why aren't you here?" He asks her.

There is no answer.  
She only smiles.  
And disappears.

He stares into the void that takes her place.  
The pain in his head slowly turns into a distant throbbing.

Finally he sinks back on his side and grabs his pillow. He presses it against his chest and buries his face in it.  
"Why aren't you here," he mumbles again.  
He feels tears in his eyes and blinks them away angrily.

Would Jemma be here if he hadn't said the words?  
He remembers all the years in which he has pushed back his feelings,full of fear thatshe could turn away from him.

What is left now?

 _Maybe she won't ever come back anyway_ , he tells himself and closes his eyes.

He barely notices that he's rocking back and forth slowly with the pillow in his arms while his tears soak the fabric.

What is left?


	4. The Fourth Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end it's not Jemma who visits Fitz. In the end, it's The Doctor. (Fitz in solitary confinement, Season 5)
> 
> Trigger warnings for mention of Claustrophobia, self harm and the overall pure angst in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I did it again: I tortured my favourite character *hides*  
> TW warnings for mention of Claustrophobia, self harm and the overall pure angst in this.  
> Feedback?  
> It would mean so much to me <3  
> Major mistakes?  
> Be merciless and tell me about them, I would be grateful <3

_They are so beautiful, Fitz, don't you think?_ __  
And they are always there.  
Even in the darkest night you can imagine, you still know that the stars are there.  
It may sound silly. So completely irrational. Cheesy. But ... it's comforting to know they're there. I think. 

Fitz doesn't think it's silly at all.  
Not back then and not today.

Jemma's words are from a long-gone time, but they are as clear in his mind as if it had been yesterday.  
It was a hot summer day.  
They were sitting on a hill, drinking cool beer, talking for hours.  
At one point Jemma was slightly drunk,her cheeks a light red and her eyes dreamy.  
And in the evening, when they looked up at the darkening sky, Jemma said those magical words. She giggled embarrassed afterwards.  
Fitz drowned in this giggle and looked at her face, spellbound and yearning.

Since then he can't think of stars without thinking of Jemma.  
But then, almost everything makes him think of her ...

He really wishes he could see the stars now.  
But there's no window in the small cell they put him in.  
He only knows that it is night now, because they turned off the light a second ago.  
Unannounced, like every day.

He sits rigidly on the cot, eyes fixed on letters that he can no longer make out. He puts the book away with a sigh. Back on the pile, which now almost reaches the ceiling.  
He lies down on his back and stares up at the gray ceiling, that's full of cracks.

Jemma.

The yearning for her burns hot in his chest., mixed with a biting, uncertain concern.

Where is she?  
Is the team with her?  
Is she safe?

The scenarios that his confused mind thinks up are all bleak and meaningless.  
They are mixed with the depressing thought that it might be better this way ... For Jemma. And for everyone else.

*

He can't think.  
He stares at the wall, at formulas and drawings. At notes he can't even remember writing

It's hot and stuffy.  
Sweat runs down his spine.  
He can smell himself.  
It's not pleasant.  
He doesn't care much anymore.

The first days were tough.   
He doesn't like small spaces. Never did.  
When he realised that they wouldn't bring him to a proper prison, where he would have been able to leave the cell at least for a few hours, he almost panicked.  
He was on the edge of hyperventilating, until he remembered the few meditation lessons May had given him after his injury.  
They helped a lot.  
He sat on the floor and breathed against the panic.  
And somehow he managed to overcome the Claustrophobia.  
But now, another problem is making him anxious.

What they want from him is impossible.  
_Find the answer._  
The answer to what?

He chews on his fingernails until he tastes blood and silently despairs.

*  
He is on the brink of begging.  
Not for freedom.  
Just for one look at the stars.

*

He has an idea how to get a message into the outside world.  
To a certain Lance Hunter.  
He doesn't know if it will work.  
But it's worth a try, he decides.

*

His dreams are incoherent and scary.  
Sometimes Jemma is with him, just holding him tight.  
But sometimes she tells him he's to blame. That he's to blame for everything that has happened to the team.

 _The framework, Fitz_ , she says accusingly. _The framework came from you and it destroyed our future. Why did you do that, Fitz?_  
I don't know, he says in the dreams.

Or does he say it aloud?

*

"Nothing," Fitz says tonelessly, staring at the wall opposite. One of his ridiculous, scribbled monkeys grins back at him. "There is nothing that I could give you. There is no explanation for this."

Hale looks at him.  
There is something in her eyes that bothers him more than the fact that she's expecting the impossible. It's something like pity. He hates it.  
He sees her gaze flickering to the monkeys at the wall.  
He asks himself if she's thinking that he's losing his mind.  
Maybe she starts to realise that he's useless.  
Maybe they will throw him into a car trunk and bury him in the middle of nowhere ...  
  
Finally she clears her throat.  
"You have to keep trying. You want to know where they are too, don't you?"

Yes.  
Oh yes.  
What would he give to know ... To know that Jemma is safe. That she's fine.

But he's running out of ideas.

*

He goes back and forth in his cell and pulls at his hair.  
Movement. He needs movement.  
Otherwise ...  
Standstill means too many thoughts.

Too much. Too many voices in his head.

*  
He no longer just dreams of Jemma.  
Scraps of another life sneak into his restless sleep.

Ophelia (No ... Aida, it's Aida) smiles down at him, her face a mask of artificial love.  
His father's hand on his shoulder ... At a party, a graduation party that never happened ... really?  
Hydra's symbol everywhere.   
On the posters, on the wall, and on the badge on his chest.  
Ward is there and nods to him. Approvingly?  
Behind him is Jemma.  
She smiles.  
But the smile doesn't reach her eyes. Her eyes are full of pain and sadness.  
He reaches out a hand to her.  
But Ophelia takes this hand and squeezes it and says, "Leopold, now our life begins. Our future. We create our world, darling."  
Our world …

He awakes from these dreams, drenched in cold sweat and breathless.  
He looks around and calls for Jemma only to realise for the hundreth time that he's alone.

Alone.

*  
Hunter's not coming.  
Maybe Fitz's idea wasn't that good after all ...

*  
He begins to avoid sleep until he can't keep his eyes open anymore. Until he begins to tremble with fatigue. Until his whole body is cold and everything aches.  
He bites into his own hand to not fall asleep.  
The blood is warm and iron in his mouth.

He almost expects hallucinations instead of nightmares.  
Like back then.  
Shortly after the accident,when his subconscious sent him Jemma as an illusion.  
It had been scary and yet comforting.  
But now he's sure he couldn't stand it if Jemma appeared before him.  
He would just ... break apart.

Somewhere he can hear thunder rumbling.  
He wished he had a window.

The sound of rain on window glass had always had a calming effect on him.

*

Almost six months are gone.

He draws a new monkey on the wall and realizes that he will soon have no room left for them.

Almost six months are gone.  
He didn't find anything.  
There is no answer to the questions.

There is only numb despair and the feeling of hopelessness that slowly leads to resignation.

Six months.

New thoughts join the gloomy scenarios in his mind.  
Jemma, who decides that life has to go on.  
With someone else. (Will, someone like Will ...)  
The team that decides, that it's better this way.   
He would have been a problem.  
Would have been a disturbing factor for all of them.

He developed the framework.  
It's his fault that they all lived through an illusion.  
He hurt people.  
He murdered people.  
He almost killed ...  
God. Jemma. Jemma kneeling before him, her eyes full of supplication and love ...

He vomits into the miserable steel toilet in his cell. Again and again.

But it's okay, he tells himself, while he's gasping for breath, clasping his stomach.  
He deserves it.  
Every spark of pain.  
He deserves it.

*

In the end it's not Jemma who visits him.

In the end, it's The Doctor.

He is there when Fitz wakes up.  
He looks at the monkeys on the wall with a condescending andamused expression on his cold face.

Fitz stares at him and feels a whole new kind of horror.  
The doctor turns to him.  
His eyes look Fitz up and down with mild interest. As if he were an insect under the microscope.

"No," Fitz whispers in horror. "You can't be here ..."

The Doctor pulls up one corner of his mouth.  
He raises a hand and strokes over his smooth hair slowly.  
Then he says in a malicious tone, "So they finally got rid of you."

The words are like a slap in the face.  
Fitz closes his eyes and swallows.  
_It's just a hallucination_ , he tells himself.  
_Just something that you’re subconscious has come up with._ _  
_It's not real ...__

When he opens his eyes again, The Doctor is still there.

He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head gently.  
"You know, it's a shame. You could have been strong." He spreads his arms and smiles proudly. "Look at me. There are worlds between us. Don't say that sometimes you don't wish to be like me. Less weak. Less disappointing. Admit it."

"No," Fitz says, shaking his head. Distantly he's aware that he shouldn't speak with a hallucination. But what does it matter now anyway ...  
"I never wanted to be like you. You're ... you're a monster."

The Doctor tilts his head. It looks predatory. "No? Unlike you, I've achieved something. I haven't been the litter of a team of liars. I am a leader. I'm better than you. An improved version of you. You know it's true."

"Shut up," Fitz says. It sounds ridiculously weak in his own ears. "Just shut up."

The Doctor just grins at him.

Fitz takes a deep breath.  
He must ... he must do something to get rid of this hallucination, thisghost.  
He looks around and his gaze lingers on the wall, from which all the monkeys are staring at him from lifeless white chalk eyes.  
Fitz swallows.  
He gets up and slowly walks to the wall. The doctor observes him silently.  
Fitz stops in front of the wall. He looks at his drawings. He looks at the fine cracks in the gray wall. He closes his eyes and inhales.  
Pain.  
Pain is clear and real.  
He will create pain and purify himself.

After a moment of hesitation, he bangs his head against the wall in front of him.  
There is a dull sound and Fitz feels more numbness than pain. He blinks.  
Not enough …

The doctor laughs behind him.  
But it sounds clipped, broken, almost mechanical.

Fitz hits his head against the wall again.  
Pain shakes him. It is blindingly white.  
He moans and stumbles back.  
The room turns around him.  
His legs give way under him.  
He lands hard on the ground and presses both hands against his pounding head.  
He blinks and looks up.

The doctor is still there, but he's out of focus and distorted.  
He becomes more blurry as Fitz looks at him.  
Becomes almost transparent.  
He looks down at Fitz, his eyes scornful and spiteful.  
Before he disappears completely, he says softly but firmly, "I'll be back."  
Then he is gone.

He is gone and Fitz weeps as relief overcomes him.  
But the next moment, a wave of new pain rolls through him and takes his breath away.  
He carefully feels his head and is relieved when he doesn't find any blood.  
He can't afford anyone here knowing what just happened ...

With the last of his strength, Fitz heaves himself onto his cot and rolls on his back, whimpering.  
He feels sick and his head is throbbing with rhythmic pain, but at least the demon has disappeared.  
But his words don't disappear that easily ...  
Fitz can still hear them.  
_An improved version ..._

He feels tears in his eyes and doesn't fight them. He has no strength left anyway.  
More than ever he craves Jemma.  
Jemma.  
May.  
Coulson.  
Daisy.  
Anyone.

At some point he takes the narrow pillow and presses it against his chest. He buries his face in it.  
The fabric is hard and rough, it feels wrong. Feels uncomfortable.  
But he doesn't have more.  
Unconsciously, he begins rocking back and forth in a desperate attempt to calm himself.

He feels incomplete.  
It feels like something has broken inside him.  
Something lies in shards on the ground of his mind.

 

In the end it's not a big surprise


	5. The Fifth Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz locks himself up and he doesn't want - doesn't expect - help. But May doesn't let herself be scared away. (Season 5, Post e14)
> 
> Trigger warning for self harm.

_I should have known_ , he tells himself as he walks restlessly up and down.  
_I put them all in danger._ _  
I hurt Daisy.  
Mack.  
Deke._  
_I threatened Jemma with a gun ..._  
Fitz stops and leans against the wall with one hand as a wave of pain rolls over him, threatening to overwhelm him.  
He closes his eyes and not for the first time he wishes himself far away into nothingness.  
  
*

 _I told you I'll come back_ , The Doctor says in the middle of the night. It sounds smug.  
  
Fitz buries his face in his hands and groans.  
"Get lost," he mumbles.  
  
_You won't get rid of me that easily. You know that. And you also know that we could do so much more together. We could be so much more significant. What do you want here in this silly cell? We did the right thing. We have done what is necessary. And without me, you would never have solved the problem._  
   
"It was the wrong solution," Fitz whispers. "That should never have happened ... Not this way."  
He shakes his head and feels sick in his stomach.  
"You ... you are a monster", he breathes.  


_I've just seen behind all the unnecessary ballast, behind the barrier of emotions_ , The Doctor says coolly. _I saw the solution and did what needed to be done. You are weak. Ridiculously weak. And you will always be. You will not be able to protect her, you know? Not like this._  
   
"Shut up ," Fitz growls, banging his fist against his forehead. "Just shut up already ..."  
  
The Doctor just laughs.  
  
*  
  
"Please Fitz ... eat something. I made you your favorite sandwich and ..."  
  
"I'm not hungry, Jemma."  
  
"Fitz ..."  
  
He hears her sighing.  
He stays on the bed, facing the wall.  
He can't look her in the eye.  
  
"I also brought you some fresh clothes."  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"Fitz ... are you sure you ... you know, you don't have to be alone down here ..."  
  
"I'm sure, Jemma."  
  
She doesn't say anything anymore.  
Her breaths sound like she's suppressing tears.  
Fitz fights the urge to get up, go to her and hug her.  
Everything in him screams for it.  
  
But no.  
  
He doesn't deserve that.  
Doesn't deserve her warmth.  
Her love.  
  
So he keeps staring at the wall, while Jemma murmurs her farewell and leaves the room with unsteady steps.  
The door closes behind her and it sounds consolingly definitive.  


*

The night is restless.  
He lies on his back and presses his hands against his head.  
Sleep seems unreachable. Every time he tries to turn off the thoughts in his head, The Doctor's voice takes their place.  
It has never been so bad.  
  
The pain that burns in him is an unprecedented, angry fire of self-hatred, fear and grief.  
He lies there until dawn, lets the pain rage and waits.  
He is waiting for Jemma, who tells him that it is better if they don't see each other again. That maybe it was a mistake to get married.  
He is waiting for someone from the team who finally tells him the truth he has long since recognized.  
That he is a monster.  
  
_Self-pity. What do you think, you can achieve with it_ , The Doctor asks contemptuously.  
  
Fitz only sighs. His body trembles with tiredness. He is alternately cold and hot. Beads of sweat are running over his face.  
Finally he grabs his pillow and hugs it tight. The feel of the soft weight is soothing. It's an old, unconscious way of coping with stress.  
He buries his face in the fabric, closing his eyes wearily, finally falling into a restless doze.   
  
*  
  
Eventually, May comes into the room.  
She carries a tray with one plate of still steaming scrambled eggs and two cups of tea on it.  
"I heard you don't eat," she says, pushing the tray over to him. She sits back and crosses her arms. "Eat."  
  
Fitz swallows. He looks at the plate and his stomach involuntarily turns at the thought of eating something.  
"I can't," he says, shaking his head.  
  
May looks at him blankly.  
Fitz avoids her piercing look.  
What will she think of him now?  
She's so close to Daisy ...  
How can she even bear his sight?  
  
"You can," May says firmly. "And you have to. How else do you want to help?"  
  
_Help._  
Fitz lets out an incredulous sound.   
  
May raises an eyebrow in question.  
  
"How could I help. I'm in here and I won't come out. Everyone knows what I did. Nobody knows what else I could do," Fitz says tonelessly. He swallows. "You think I'm a monster," he whispers, clenching his hand into a fist. It is a statement waiting for confirmation.  
  
But May shakes her head. "No," she says calmly. "I think you've been through too much. I think you are traumatized. I think you need help. That doesn't make you a monster. It makes you human."   
  
Fitz doesn't know what to say to this. He's stunned.  
  
May looks at him for a moment. She clears her throat and finally says, "After Bahrain, I couldn't look myself in the eye anymore. I isolated myself. From me and my emotions. From everyone else. That was a mistake." She takes a sip of her tea.  
  
Fitz swallows. He doesn't understand ... why is she telling him this?  
  
"You should stop making this problem to something that defines your future and start asking yourself what you will do about it. It won't do you any good to lock up and humiliate yourself. Instead of resignation, choose the fight. Otherwise nothing will be left of you soon. You have some demons in your head? Fight them. I know demons. They can be stubborn. But you're stronger than them", May says and looks at Fitz intensely.  
  
He lowers his head and swallows. He feels as if she has just cast a glance into his head.  
  
"You are part of this team. That will never change. After the Framework, we said that we all take responsibility. We are like this. We go together through the things that are awaiting us. You are not alone, even if you believe that now. Up there is a team and it worries about you," May continues calmly.  
  
Fitz looks aside and swallows.  
"But Daisy ..."  
  
May shakes her head. "I can't speak for Daisy, Fitz. I know she's angry. Hurt. And I think that's hardly surprising." She raises her eyebrows and takes another sip of her tea.  
  
Fitz nods and lowers his head.  
"I lost her," he says softly.  
  
May looks at him intently for a moment. Then she shakes her head.  
"No. You hurt her. This is something else."  
  
Fitz doubts that.  
But he doesn't say anything more.  
He reaches for the fork in resignation and begins to eat the scrambled eggs slowly and reluctantly, under May's watchful, relentless gaze.

*

The night goes by as restless as usual.

Hours pass in which he rolls around on the bed, desperately trying to sort out his thoughts.  
Hours in which he has to fight against the voice in his head.  
He tries to focus on what May told him.  
But the doubts are too strong and The Doctor too emphatic.

At some point it's too much.  
It's too much and he needs ...  
He needs rest.  
What would he give for a little rest ...

Before he really realizes it, he bit his right forearm bloody.  
The pain is dull and burning. It is deafening.  
The voice in his head gives way and makes room for a dull throb.  
The pain mixes with relief and the bitter taste of iron.

*

May discovers the wounds on his arm the very next morning.

It happens as they sit at the table and he reaches out for the cup of tea.  
His sleeve slips and the next moment May catches his wrist.  
She pushes the sleeve further up and inhales sharply. 

Fitz avoids her gaze.

"That's not the solution," May says quietly after a few breaths.

Fitz closes his eyes and swallows.  
When he opens his eyes again, he looks at May and says harshly: "Well. I see no other."

May returns his look, frowning.  
Finally she sighs and lets go of him. She gets up and tells him to do the same.  
Then she slowly sits down on the floor, legs crossed.  
She stretches her back, raises her head and looks at him encouragingly.  
"Sit down."

Fitz hesitates.  
But when May's eyes narrow slightly, he quickly sits down in a similar position opposite of her. 

May nods contentedly, exhaling audibly.  
"Close your eyes," she says.

Fitz obeys.

"Breathe with me. Deep, long breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slowly." May takes a few breaths and Fitz adapts to her.

"Focus on this moment," May says then calmly. "Concentrate on every single breath."

For a while, they breathe in near synchronization.  
In. Out.  
In. Out.  
In. Out.  
It's hypnotic.  
Soothing.

Fitz doesn't know how much time passes until May stops and says, "That's enough."

He opens his eyes and looks around, slightly dazed.

May looks at him attentively and rolls her shoulders to loosen them up.  
"Better?"

"Yes," Fitz says in surprise.

May nods curtly and gets up in one fluid motion.  
"That's meditation. It's not as complicated as many think. But it has many good qualities. One is that you can find a focus in your head. It's all about balance. You need balance," she explains calmly. "A mantra can help here too. Something that drives you. Something you want to achieve. Every time you take a breath, you think of this mantra or speak it out. Find your mantra. When I'm back, we'll do it again."

Fitz swallows, nodding.  
He watches her, as she takes her mug and walks to the door.  
Before May leaves, he hesitantly asks, "May ... what's your mantra?"

She stops, but doesn't look at him. For a moment he thinks she won't tell him. And that would be okay. He feels anyway, as if he had asked a question that exceeds a certain limit ... But then May says, "Go on."

Only that.  
It is enough.  
Fitz understands.  
He looks after May and feels connected to her in a way that feels new and strange yet comforting.

Later he thinks about his own mantra.  
It's not very hard to find.

  
_I am not him._

*

The next time Jemma visits, Fitz manages to hug her without being paralysed by the fear of hurting her.  
She holds him tight. It seems almost desperate.  
When they part, she looks at him intently.  
"How are you?"

He manages a faint smile.  
"I'm alright. May ... May taught me some meditation."

"Oh." Jemma wipes a strand from her face, smiling brightly. "That's nice of her."

"It helps," Fitz says shortly. Honestly.  
It helps immensely. More than he would have thought.  
The voice of The Doctor becomes quieter, his thoughts and the memories of the Framework less threatening.  
Even sleeping is easier.  
For the first time in a long time, he feels something like hope.

Jemma and he sit down on the bed and he listens, as she talks about the things that are going on. 

*

"I really would like to talk to Daisy," Fitz says after the usual meditation round with May.

May looks at him attentively and nods. "I'll tell her," she says, pushing a bottle of water into his hand the next moment. "Now drink."

Fitz sighs. But he obeys.  
There is little else to do when a grim Melinda May stands in front of you with her arms crossed.

*

He waits nervously.  
He walks up and down, fiddling with his fingers.  
The uncertainty brings back The Doctor. His voice spiteful and contemptuous, with an amused undertone.

_She won't come. Do you really think she can look you in the eye? She hates you._

"Get lost," Fitz mumbles and presses a fist against his forehead. "You're just a figment of my imagination. Just a demon, I have to fight. Just a ..." 

"Who are you talking to?"

Fitz flinches and turns around.

Daisy stands in front of the glass, arms crossed over her chest. She stares at him with an expression Fitz can't quite interpret.

He swallows and avoids her gaze. "I ..."

"The Doctor, right? It's him," Daisy says, shifting her weight.

Fitz just nods.

Daisy sighs. Then she raises a hand and types in the code for the door.  
"I'll come in," she says shortly.

Fitz swallows.  
He wants to stop her for a moment.  
What if he somehow loses control? What if …

But the next moment Daisy is already in front of him.  
She looks at him alertly and her breathing sounds a bit heavier.

Fitz takes a step back and shakes his head slightly.  
"Daisy ..."

She raises a hand and he falls silent.  
"Listen", she says. "I'm ... I don't even know how to describe the things I feel in regard to you." She takes a deep breath. "I want to be completely honest. I am not here to tell you that I forgive you. Or that we can just go on like nothing happened. No."

Fitz isn't surprised.   
He nods.  
And waits. For her to tell him what he already knows. That he's a monster and that she hates him. That she wants him to rot in hell.

Daisy wipes a strand from her forehead and looks at Fitz openly. "I'm here because we ... because this is my family. Coulson, May, Mack, Yo-Yo, Jemma ... and you. You are the family I chose for myself. We were like siblings and ... and you helped me through a difficult time. We went through a lot together. I don't want to give up everything we had."

Fitz blinks. Surprise slowly takes away the feeling of resignation in his heart.

She swallows and says quietly: "May talked to me a lot about you. And I thought a lot. I want to say, I accept that you have a problem and that we need a solution. I accept that you are ill and need help. But ... ", she hesitates and swallows. "Do you accept that too? Tell me the truth."

Fitz feels tears in his eyes. They burn slightly.  
"Yes," he says softly. "Everything you said is true. I know it. And I would do anything to do something about it. To prevent that ... that something like that from happening again."

Daisy nods. There are tears in her eyes too, Fitz realizes surprised.  
"Good. You should know that I don't hate you, Fitz. And I don't want you to think you are a monster. I also don't want you to hurt yourself."

He flinches and rubs involuntarily, guiltily over his right forearm.

Daisy sighs and puts her hands on her hips. "Well ... you should try to get rest. You should eat and drink enough water. And find a proper sleep rhythm. May said that she's teaching you meditation, so do that too if it helps. When the world is no longer about to get destroyed, we will find a solution, ok? We'll get you help." She sighs and shakes her head. "I mean ... actually everyone in this team could really use some therapy." She looks at her feet for a moment. Then she looks at him again and says, "I'll leave now. Goodbye Fitz."

Fitz nods. "Goodbye Daisy."  
He looks after her as she walks to the door.  
He swallows.  
"Daisy ..."

She looks at him over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

Daisy stares at him for a moment. Then she nods tightly and leaves.

Fitz is left with a feel of relief.  
She doesn't think that he's a monster.  
Maybe he can just start to acknowledge that too.  
He takes a few deep breaths and sits down on his bed to meditate.

_I'm not him._


	6. Maggie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz wakes up and doesn't understand. They tell him about things he can't remember. It's all too much. So he shuts down. (Post Season 5 Finale, CryoFitz)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! :)  
> I hope you like it.  
> It's angsty (again) but hopeful and there's a dog! :3  
> It was fun to write this little series and I want to say thank you for your feedback <3
> 
> Side note: Please never try to get an autistic person out of a Shutdown with force, allow some time to retreat and recover. My mother pulled me out violently a few times (grabbing my arms or shaking me) and it's not a pleasant experience. At all.

Fitz opens his eyes.  
  
He breathes in.  
He breathes in and it's cold.  
Incredibly cold.  
  
The door of the chamber opens.  
  
_Chamber._  
_Why a chamber._  
_What …_ _  
_  
The memories are only slowly coming back to him.  
They are displaced by cold and confusion.  
His whole body trembles and he has no feeling in his legs. He stumbles forward and sinks to his knees. He coughs. Someone puts a blanket over his shoulders. Someone whispers his name. Someone …  
  
He freezes in disbelief.  
That voice ... it's ... no, that's not possible.  
  
He's supposed to find her. He remembers.  
  
Pictures in his head. It seems like yesterday, but yesterday is long in the past, isn't it?  
Because the future ... the future was dark and hopeless. Apocalyptic.  
He has to find her.  
Has to find the team.  
Bring them back. So that they can change the future.  
What happened?  
What …  
  
"Fitz," Jemma's voice says again. It sounds stifled. "Oh Fitz ..."  
  
_Jemma ..._  
  
He finally looks up, seeing her kneeling in front of him.  
Her eyes are wide open and wet.  
Her lip trembles slightly.  
She is beautiful and yet there's something so infinitely sad about her, that it shakes Fitz to the core.  
  
He stares at her, not sure if she's just a wishful image. He has been longing for her for so long. So long he dreamed of seeing those eyes again.  
And for a moment he's sure that she's just another illusion. Although in his dreams, her eyes were never full of tears ...  
He reaches out an unsteady hand for her.  
  
_Are you real?_  
_Please be real ..._ _  
_  
He gasps as she takes his hand in hers, gently squeezing it. Her skin is warm.  
She is almost burning hot in contrast to him. He's still freezing cold and she's like blazing sunshine.  
  
"Jemma," he says hoarsely. "What …"  
  
He can't continue because he doesn't know what he wants to say.  
She shakes her head, pressing his hand tighter.  
He sees now that she's not alone.  
Mack and Daisy are there too. Yo-Yo. Agent Davis and Piper. They are all there, looking at him. Contradictory emotions on their faces. Joy and sadness. Something like pity. Even fear.  
  
Fitz doesn't understand.  
  
"I ... I wanted to save you," he says, frowning in confusion.  
  
"You did, Fitz," Jemma says and a tear rolls over her cheek down to her chin. "You did save us."  
  
He doesn't understand.  
He doesn't understand and as Jemma clings to him, crying, shaking, he can only hold her, his head full of questions and his heart full of an unexplainable heaviness.  
  
*

Jemma says, "You died."  
  
Fitz does not know if he's surprised.  
  
He feels rather mildly disappointed.  
  
Jemma's stories make him sad and happy in a strange way.  
But the more she tells him, the more the story seems like a tragedy with a corresponding end.  
  
He slowly starts to realize that she carries memories he will never have. She carries a burden that he can't share with her.  
  
He holds her while she sheds tears for someone he isn't. For someone he never was.  
  
He holds her and doesn't know how to feel.  
So he says nothing.  
  
Because what he has to say could hurt her.  
And he doesn't want her to shed any more tears for him or the someone he isn't.  
  
*  
  
Mack says, "I'm glad to see you, Turbo."  
  
Fitz swallows.  
He tries to smile.  
Words are hard for him.  
He never knows if he finds the right ones.  
  
Jemma told him that Mack was there when it happened. When that other version of him died.  
For some reason, Fitz feels slightly guilty.  
  
He wonders if Mack has nightmares.  
  
Mack looks at him. There are tears in his eyes. Everyone around Fitz has tears in their eyes. It makes Fitz anxious. But he keeps this fact for himself. He feels like he has no right to tell them to stop being sad.  
  
"We will work together this time, alright?" Mack finally says. "We will always be there for you."  
  
Fitz nods wordlessly.  
He looks down at his hands, which are tightly intertwined.  
He starts to understand.  
  
The memories he lacks are like a warning for the others.  
  
They see him as a potential danger.  
  
Is he like a ticking time bomb for them?

"You're fighting something inside you", Jemma had said, her voice trembling. "We didn't ... we should have helped you. I'm so sorry, Fitz."

Fitz remembers the prison and the voice in his head.  
He already knows he's broken.  
But he didn't think he would break the team.  
He doesn't want it to happen.  
If the future is set, how is he supposed to live with the knowledge of being a danger to everyone he loves?  
  
He looks at Mack and doesn't know what to say.  
  
*  
  
Daisy says, "Fitz ... I'm really glad to see you, but ... I can't do this right now. I'm sorry."  
  
Fitz nods and says, "It's okay. I understand. I am sorry, too."  
  
They are standing in front of Daisy's bunk. Daisy looks like she is fighting a battle with herself. She's holding on to her right arm, biting her lower lip.  
"You ... Fitz, that wasn't, well, _you_."  
  
Still. Somehow it was him. And he himself is so shocked that he gets sick thinking of Jemma's report. He can't believe what he did to Daisy. It seems like a nightmare, but it happened. It happened for Daisy.  
  
It would be okay for him if Daisy hates him.  
If she never wanted to see him again.  
  
Of course it hurts.  
He likes her.  
Thought they were close. Almost like siblings.  
But now everything is different.  
And it seems like he can only break things from now on.  
  
Daisy looks at him and the expression in her eyes gets a little warmer. But the mix of confusion and fear in them doesn't quite disappear.  
  
"I need time," she whispers, crossing her arms over her chest. Firmly. "More time.”

Fitz nods calmly.  
"I know. It's okay, Daisy."  
  
She presses her lips together and for a moment it seems, as if she wants to say something else. But then she lowers her head and goes into her bunk. She closes the door and locks it from the inside.  
  
Fitz feels numb.  
He starts to mourn.  
To mourn things that are destroyed.  
  
He wanted to save the world.  
He destroyed his own.  
  
He goes into his own bunk and sits down on the bed slowly.  
  
It's all too much.  
  
He stares at the wall opposite and his head is full of things he never wanted to know, words he never wanted to hear and questions he hopes he doesn't have to answer.  
  
He closes his eyes.  
  
It is too much.  
  
So he shuts down.

*  
  
Elena asks, "Is he okay?", frowning.  
  
Jemma looks at Fitz, who is sitting on the bed with his knees drawn to his chest and his arms tightly wrapped around them. His eyes are open, but slightly glassy. He stares at the wall opposite, breathing evenly.  
  
She swallows. She hasn't seen him like that for a long time. In the middle of a shutdown.  
"He'll come out of it by himself sometime," she says in a subdued voice, carefully closing the door again.  
  
"Are you sure?" Elena raises her eyebrows doubtfully. "Don't you want to do anything about it?"  
  
Jemma shakes her head gently. "You shouldn't pull him out of this by force. I think that everything was too much for him and he has withdrawn into himself. To deal with the stress."  
  
"How long does it take for him to come out again?" Elena asks worriedly.  
  
"I don't know," Jemma replies, fidgeting nervously with her wedding ring. "We can only wait."  
  
*

Later, when Jemma returns to the bunk, Fitz is laying in bed on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow.  
  
"Fitz?" Jemma asks carefully.  
  
He doesn't react.  
  
She sits down carefully on the bed and puts a hand on his shoulder.  
"Love ... Is there something I can do?" She asks.  
  
It's quiet for a while.  
But then Fitz turns his head and squints up at her.  
"I'm not him," he says softly.  
  
Jemma swallows. "I'm aware of that," she says carefully.  
  
"I don't know if I can be him," Fitz says, and Jemma sees a tear in the corner of his eye.  
  
"You don't have to be him. You are _you_ and I love you. Fitz ... I crossed the galaxy to find you," Jemma says with a wry smile.  
  
Fitz blinks at her and his look gets something lost. "Maybe it would have been wiser if you had stayed on the other side of the galaxy," he mumbles, burying his face in the pillow again.  
  
Something in Jemma breaks quietly. She puts a hand over her mouth and tries to suppress her sob. She can't do it.  
  
Fitz stops talking that day.  
  
And that same day, Jemma decides that SHIELD has stolen enough from her life.  
  
*  
  
It feels good to be back on earth.  
  
Jemma breathes in fresh air and is happy when she hears some birds chirping.  
The wind gently rocks the trees and some leaves fall down.  
Autumn is coming.  
A season she has always enjoyed.  
  
Fitz stands beside her, an absent expression on his tired face.  
Jemma looks at him and her heart hurts.  
It is as if Fitz merely exists instead of living.  
He eats and drinks when she tells him to.  
He follows her when she takes his hand and leads him.  
But there is too much that he doesn't do more.  
Talking, for example.  
It's as if the words escaped him.  
  
Jemma sighs and turns to the team standing in front of them.

"So," she says. "It's time to say goodbye, I guess."  
  
Daisy is the first who pulls her into a tight hug.  
Jemma closes her eyes and presses her forehead against Daisy's shoulder for a moment.  
"See you soon, Simmons," Daisy mumbles in her ear. "Take care."  
  
Jemma nods. She suppresses tears.  
  
When Daisy lets go of her, she goes to Fitz and takes his hand. He lets it happen without showing an emotion.  
Daisy looks at him and swallows. "Goodbye, Fitz. Don't forget that we are family, alright?"  
He looks at her and as so often before, Jemma hopes he'll say something. But he stays silent.  
Daisy squeezes his hand one last time and then leaves. Her steps are a bit too fast. They give away her feelings.  
  
Then the others say their goodbyes, barely able to hold back tears.  
  
Although Jemma knows that it's not forever, she has a feeling of finality when she sees them flying away.  
She watches them until they disappear in the sky.  
  
Then she takes Fitz's hand and leads him to the car, which stands at the side.  
The Koenigs took care of everything.  
  
In a few minutes they are on their way to a cottage in Perthshire.  
A touch of new hope blooms in Jemma's heart. But it doesn't make the grief she's still feeling disappear.  
  
*  
  
The cottage is exactly what she wanted.  
But it's filled with so much silence that it feels cold and empty.  
  
On the first day, Jemma goes through the numbers of the therapists on the list that the Koenigs gave her.  
She finds someone with a soft, warm voice and a lot of experience with non-ordinary, typical SHIELD things.  
  
She tells Fitz about it.  
He glances at her impassively and then turns his head to the window, in front of which a beautiful flower meadow is laid out.  
  
*  
  
Fitz doesn't talk to the therapist.  
  
But Jemma talks for almost one hour straight.  
Once she starts, she can't stop. There is so much pain in her. So much desperation.  
"I feel like I lost him," she says, wiping the tears from her face awkwardly. "As if this time he would disappear right in front of my eyes. I'm scared. I love him. I want to help him ... but I don't know how. I don't know how to reach him this time ... it has never been this way. Never. It looks as if it wants to cut himself out of my life, what should I do?"  
  
The therapist puts a finger on her chin thoughtfully. "Fitz is obviously under a lot of stress. He can't communicate it. Probably out of fear of causing something that could hurt you," she says quietly. "From what I learned about Fitz so far, I think it's hard for him to express his emotions in words anyway. Sometimes it's easier for people like him if there is someone who can't demand anything. Who is just there and gives silent comfort. Someone who can be like a bridge between you and him. Animals can be helpful. A dog, for example," she explains.  
  
"A dog?" Jemma asks astonished. But the next moment it makes so much sense that she has already made the decision to try it, before she's really sure.

*

Jemma walks slowly through the corridors of the pet shelter.  
She is overwhelmed by all the impressions around her.  
  
Loud barking accompanies her on her way.  
Muzzles press through bars hopefully.  
  
It makes her heart heavy when she sees all those wonderful beings in desperate need of love.  
  
For a moment, she's not sure she'll be able to pick a dog, because how is she supposed to leave all the others behind.  
  
But then she stops at a kennel.  
She looks into a single wet brown eye.  
For the first time there is no excited barking. This dog, medium in size and black, with a noticeable milky left eye, is lying on the bottom of the kennel, seemingly exhausted, looking mildly interested but also scared.  
Something is stirring in Jemma.  
  
"Hello, little one," she whispers, dropping to her knees in front of the kennel. She gets a weak tail wagging as an answer.  
  
"That's Maggie. She has been through a lot," a worker behind her suddenly says. "We found her on the street, half starving. Someone must have abandoned her. She is blind in one eye and limps a bit. Besides, she is still very shy." She sighs. "Unfortunately it is always difficult to find a home for such dogs. Most people walk past them ..."  
  
Jemma looks at the dog. The words of the woman behind her cut into her heart. As she holds her hand to the bars, Maggie stretches her head and sniffs. She wags her tail half-heartedly, lifts an ear and huffs.  
  
Jemma smiles sadly and says, "I take her."  
  
*  
  
Fitz is sitting on the bed as usual and looks out the window.  
His hands are laying in his lap loosely.  
  
Jemma enters the room, Maggie in her arms.  
She goes to the bed and stops in front of it.  
"Fitz," she says softly. "Here is someone who really would like to meet you ..."  
  
She carefully puts Maggie on the bed.  
  
The female dog looks up at Fitz and wags her tail.  
As she moves closer to Fitz and gently licks over one of his hands, Jemma sees him wince slightly.  
He slowly turns his head and looks down at the dog beside him. His eyes widen.  
  
"I know. She's not exactly a monkey, but well ...," Jemma says teasingly, with a wry smile.  
  
Fitz looks at her. His eyes are wide open and full of surprise. "Jemma," he says quietly, hoarsely.  
  
Jemma exhales shakily. Her heart fills with relief. Finally, she hears his voice again ... it is overwhelming.  
  
She watches as Fitz carefully places a hand on Maggie's head. The dog looks up to him attentively.  
  
"Hello you," Fitz murmurs and his glance gets soft. "Who are you?"  
  
"Her name is Maggie," Jemma says gently.  
  
"Maggie," he repeats and takes a deep breath. "Hello Maggie."  
  
The dog wags her tail and licks his chin.  
  
Fitz laughs.  
  
The sound is a sudden and intense blossom of hope in Jemma's heart.  
  
*

They take slow, careful steps.  
But no matter how slow they go, they always go forward.  
From careful initial talks, they go over to timid touches. A hand on the shoulder. A light kiss on the cheek. A hint of a hug at night.  
  
Maggie is always there.  
  
Jemma can feel a deep connection forming between her and Fitz.  
  
Maggie is present when Fitz talks to the therapist.  
He holds her in his arms, sliding his fingers through her thick fur.  
She is completely calm and stays there no matter how long it takes.  
Her presence soothes Fitz so much that he is finally able to talk about why he has lost the words. He is finally able to put his fear into words. His fear that the future might already be set. His fear of a future in which he will hurt people again. In which he loses control again. Often he starts to cry while talking, and Maggie licks his face, whining softly.  
  
Maggie is there when Fitz wakes up panting during the night, still trapped in the clutches of a nightmare. She clings to him and lets him stroke her until it gets better. Until he can breathe again. She sleeps beside him, her head on the pillow beside his.  
  
Maggie is there when Fitz has a panic attack. She tells Jemma, barking soflty, leading her to Fitz. She stays, one ear raised attentively, while Jemma brings him back to reality with gently words and touches. She lets Fitz hug her and presses her muzzle against his cheek.  
  
Maggie is wonderful.  
She loses her shyness and becomes a vivid, happy and loving friend.  
  
She is the bridge between Jemma and Fitz.  
The bridge on which they approach each other.

On which they walk towards a future that is hopeful and promising.

Sometimes, it's a stony way.  
But they never stop.  
They just go on.  
Together.  
  
*  
  
Spring is mild and full of rediscovered feelings.  
  
Fitz proposes to her.  
  
She says yes in tears.  
  
Maggie dances around them, barking, as they sit in the grass and hold on tight.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-read by Ricanta. 
> 
> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
